Books and Bounds
by beforeskylines
Summary: "Nah, I don't hook up in libraries; they're full of dried-up perverts who would probably get their jollies off watching a hot beast like myself perform R-rated activities." : Freddie tutors, Sam never learns. / Sam & Freddie
1. The Thing About Libraries

**Books & Bounds**

**/**

**One: The Thing about Libraries**

Freddie inhaled harshly, withholding a sneeze as the smell of dust and ageing literature flooded his airways. On most days the smell, once Freddie had taken his allergy pills, was calming to him; the knowledge and power implied with the scent washed over him with so much force he couldn't help but feel a bit more confident in himself. Then again, on most days he indulged in the smell of Ridgeway's library on his own agenda instead of being forced to experience it _'or else'_, or so the hastily scribbled note in his locker implied. The note was left without a signature, but Freddie would recognize the loopy, lopsided cursive anywhere. Even if he didn't, the little spots of spilled soda that sprinkled the paper were a dead giveaway that it was the work of a certain Sam Puckett.

In truth, Sam wasn't nearly as threatening to Freddie as she once was. At seventeen, Freddie had reaped the benefits of puberty and gained plenty of inches on his former height, settling in at a comfortable 5'9 while Sam never sprouted a centimeter past 5'5. Sure, she still had absolutely no restraints and was willing to hit, kick, scratch him _any_where at any time when she was mad, but her physical abuse wasn't nearly as painful as it had been when he was at the same height and barley weighed more than an Oxford Dictionary. That didn't mean that she didn't still have her fair share of tricks up her sleeve.

"Benson." Freddie jumped, knocking his legs painfully against the top of the table as Sam settled in across from him, patented smirk present on her face.

He flushed, ignoring the smugness that seemed to ooze out of the blonde and getting to the point at hand. "You're late," he told her, giving his leg a small rub.

"I can't just drop everything for you," she tilted her chair back and propped her feet atop the table. "I have this thing called a life – you know they're not just something they make up in those little comics you read."

"You were the one who called me here!" What were they? Ten? Twenty seconds into conversation and he was already at his limit.

"Technicalities, Freddifer, no need to get your panties into a bunch," she rolled her eyes before continuing, not giving him a chance to interject. "Look, I don't have time so let's just cut to the chase – I'm failing."

He scoffed, "No, really? I'm shocked." Sam had somehow found herself in all AP classes at the beginning of the year. Principal Franklin was insistent that Sam was actually some kind of genius who was just too lazy to put in the effort. With Ridgeway being one of the various schools in the country that was underfunded, there was only one AP program per grade. This meant he bared witness to how little Sam actually did in class- that was on the days she even bothered show up.

"Yeah, yeah. The point is now everyone's throwing around words like 'won't graduate' and worse, 'summer school,' so I got to past those damn tests they're giving us in a few weeks or else I'm going to have no other option but to drop out and join the circus."

Freddie cocked and eyebrow. "One, how is summer school worse than not graduating? Two, there are a million other options then dropping out and joining the circus – you just want to have a reason to join that won't have Carly biting your head off. Three, what does this have to do with me?" Though even Freddie had taken notice that their 'friendship' (as he was now allowed to call it with caution) had grown a lot over the years, Sam still wasn't one to come running to Freddie when she had a problem. In fact, she wasn't one to run to anyone when she had a problem.

"Your logic is such a complete fail. How in the world would not graduating be worse than summer school? It's school _in the summer_. Also, it's a known fact that if you drop out of high school at one point in your life you will in fact join the circus, I might as well join when I'm young and beautiful so I can be like Mermaid Girl or something," she paused for a moment and Freddie could see she was very seriously considering the pros and cons of becoming a circus mermaid. "Huh, you think they have invisible ninjas in the circus?" she paused again before shaking her head. "Nah, too cool. Anyway, obviously you're going to tutor me; I clearly explained it in my note."

Freddie chose to ignore the first two parts and focus on the third. "How does 'Library. Three Thirty. Be There.' equate to 'Hey Freddie, I was wondering if you would tutor me, please.'"

"Why else would I come to the library?"

Freddie opened his mouth but couldn't think of a good comeback. This was the first time he had seen Sam in the library, or any place where the main focus was to willingly let one enhance their knowledge. "I don't know, to hook up with Mike?" Mike was Sam's boyfriend of the day/week/month/however long it took for her to become bored.

"Nah, I don't hook up in libraries; they're full of dried-up perverts who would probably get their jollies off watching a hot beast like myself perform R-rated activities. Besides, I broke up with Mike."

Freddie scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "What? When? Weren't you two making out just this morning?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Why do you know where my lips have been? Huh, Fredaperv?"

"You were in the middle of the school entrance," he said flatly.

"Likely story," she dismissed. "Anyway, I broke up with him after that."

"When did you see him before then? You don't have any classes with him and you had detention during lunch." Freddie sighed. "And no, I am not stalking you; we have all the same classes."

"Uh huh," she pursued her lips. "I broke up with him before coming here. He kept nagging me about how I never called him and I never seemed interested and blah, blah, blah. Ever since he started thinking with his head instead of his 'head' everything just went downhill." Freddie felt something in his stomach shift as a slight taste of vile overtook his mouth; he accounted it to the allergies.

"You're so crude."

Sam shrugged. "Better than being a pansy. I thought guys were only supposed to only be after one thing but no, all of you get all needy and whiny as soon as you find a girl who won't try and tie you down."

"Well, you know some people believe in this thing called love." Sam set her eyes on him and for a second he swore something semi-serious passed through all the amusement.

"Ugh, yeah, I forgot you're one of those people," she sighed. "Whatever. Let's move on with this whole teaching me stuff thing."

"I haven't even agreed to tutor you. I have a lot going on; AV club, Chess Club, Poetry Club, Fine Literature club…"

"It's like you go out of your way to emasculate yourself," Sam shook her head.

"And that's another thing, why would I inconvenience myself and help you when all you do is insult me?" He questioned. Sam gave a small shrug, casting her eyes to the ceiling.

"I don't know, aren't you always yapping on about me and you being friends?"

Freddie raked his teeth over his lips, narrowing his eyes as he tried to get what she was playing at. More than likely she was just pulling out the friendship card to get what she wanted without meaning it but…they were friends, in the technical sense. He'd even go as far to say they were close friends, though having any kind of connection to Sam that lasted more than a week was considered close. He watched as she lazily played with a few stands of her hair, knotting it into an even more hopeless manner then it was already in. Hopeless. That was the perfect way to describe Sam, the perfect way to describe their non-existent tutoring exchange.

"It's you and I," he sighed. "You won't even show up."

She groaned, letting her chair fall back forwards and slamming her feet back into the ground before propping her elbows on the table. "Maybe I won't, maybe I will. C'mon, Benson, the fun is in finding out."

Freddie threw her a look. If he said no and Sam ended up flunking Sam would go around blaming it on Freddie, and Carly – though she would say she didn't blame him – would have that disappointed expression of hers. Also, it wasn't like Freddie hated being around Sam; sure they didn't usually go out of their way to see each other but if they ran into each other at the Groovy Smoothie it was natural for Sam to head over to his table and demand he pay for anything she may want. He'd never say it aloud but he kind of looked forward to their encounters.

Sam was now staring at him, eyebrow cocked – no doubt trying to use some kind of mental force to persuade him to do what she wanted. He inhaled sharply before throwing his hands up in the air.

"Fine, I'll do it. But if you don't show up or don't pay attention I'm quitting."

Sam grinned, "Yeah, yeah. Let's get started."

"We can't start today," he said and Sam's expression instantly morphed into impatience. "I have to see what areas you need help in, get a full idea of what level you're on right now and figure out what the problem is."

"I need help in everything and the problem is that I'm still required to show up to this damn insane-asylum five days a week, eight hours a day."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to have to test you."

Sam folded her arms across her chest. "Tests? Nu-uh, I don't even put up with that mind-numbing chiz in class."

Freddie could already feel a headache coming on; he knew this was a bad idea. Should've said no. "It's either test you or get your records from the school and they don't give those things out to students."

Sam scoffed. "I'll get the records."

"You can't, it's impossible to hack into the school system without getting caught. Remember how Carly and I tried and the police showed up at her apartment- which was all thanks to you, by the way."

"Yeah, that only happened 'cause you're amateurs. Leave it to the professionals, Benson."

"Fine," Freddie pushed back in his chair and stood. "But don't call me when you need bail money."

"Don't call me when you come to the startling realization that your life is nothing but a void of anti-bacterial underwear and tick baths."

"Be here tomorrow at three thirty," he ignored the jab. "And actually be on time this time." Sam stood, grabbing her bag and slinging it across her shoulder.

"I make no promises."

**/**

"How did you get these?"

Freddie flipped through the folder that lay in front of him, every now and then pausing to throw a disbelieving look to Sam who sat across from him.

"Don't question Mama," Sam said smugly, leaning against the table. The library was fairly empty, a few random kids scattering around all too engrossed in their own work to pay much attention to the odd pairing. Sam was still getting over the shock that someone could actually willingly give up their free time to study even after school was let out. Part of her just wanted to stand up and demand they all get a life before they got too accustomed to the habits of a nub. Speaking of nubs…

Her eyes darted to the boy who was furiously flipping through her folders with various expressions ranging from disbelief to annoyance. She wasn't sure why she had sought out him of all people; it wasn't like she didn't know anyone else who could help with her issue. Carly, for instance, would've been more than happy to help her boost her grades up. It wasn't like she was embarrassed to be failing; it was widespread knowledge that Sam Puckett wasn't exactly topping the dean's list.

Maybe it was because she hadn't seen the nerd around much as of late. With iCarly finished she wasn't over at Carly's nearly as much, especially since she was usually busy either trying to get a boyfriend or trying to dump one. It wasn't like she and Benson hung out in school either. They took to different groups; she took to the punks and the popular while he took to the brains and… socially impaired. In reality Sam knew Freddie wasn't that bad, and if he tried a little he could easily make his way up the ladder of social hierarchy; but none of that seemed to matter to him. He seemed to want more out of his friends then just the usual 'good time.' She didn't get it.

"Sam," Freddie shook his head. "This is horrible!"

She pulled her lips back into a frown. "They're not that bad."

He looked up to her, eyes wide. "They're not bad, they're great! The few standardized test you actually completed had amazing scores, better than mine. And your SAT score was two hundred points over mine – do you know how hard I studied for that test?"

Sam shrugged. "If the flashcards and creepy muttering were any indication, a lot?"

"More than a lot," he groaned. "Ever since middle school I've been studying away. I study all the time. Not just for the SATs, but for everything, it takes my all to get the kind of scores you do without even trying!"

Sam sunk her head down to the table, letting out a slow exhale of air. Everyone was always going on like she was some kind of genius, but she wasn't really. When it really came down to it Freddie was smarter than her, Carly was smarter than her, and most of the world was smarter than her. She was able to darken in a few of the right bubbles on a test. What did that prove in the long run?

"It's not like I don't take in anything, I listen in class." Sometimes.

"When? You're never in class!" Sam looked at him. "And I'm not a stalker," he added flatly.

"Look, Benson, if I'm so smart then why am I failing? Huh?"

"It seems to me you just don't put in the effort." That was true, for the most part, but sometimes she just really didn't get it.

"Fine then, I'll just put in the effort," she snatched back the papers and started to put them in her bag.

Freddie frowned. "Wait. Are you trying to say that it's not that you don't put in the effort, even though you never do any work and have unbelievably high test scores?"

"Well I certainly didn't seek you out as a tutor as a first, second or third resort."

He glared, holding out his hands for the file once again which she supplied begrudgingly. He took a moment, going over it with narrowed eyes, as if trying to literally pick up the words between the lines.

"Well," he said after a few moments. "It does seem that you got a lot of the algebraic problems wrong in the math section, and you didn't even bother with the English interpretations…" he looked to her for an answer, to which she responded with a shrug.

"I don't get how people can see a tree as anything more than a tree or the sun as more than anything but the sun."

He clucked his tongue in a way that seemed to say 'figures'. "You're pretty good at science, and you got near perfect scores in all your history stuff over the years. What electives are you taking this year?"

"Spanish two, home ec, health…"

"Which ones are you failing?"

"Spanish two, home ec, health…"

"So early math, figurative interpretations and electives are what we have to work on?"

"I don't know, you're the tutor."

Freddie shut the file with a small grin. "Well, that's not so bad. I'll check out the books we need and glance through them and work out a plan, sound good?"

Sam couldn't seem to control the quirk of her lips as she scoffed and looked away. "Whatever."

**/**

**Sam&Freddie + Tutoring = Horribly Cliché, I know, but it seems I couldn't resist. Unless I screw things up, this piece will be just a short (3-5 chapters), lighthearted Sam&Freddie piece. Expect a mess of cliché, little angst and maybe a pinch of crude humor.**

_Feedback = Love_


	2. Doesn't Equal Two

_Bam!_

Freddie folded his arms across his chest, trying to brush off the annoying tingling that came with various eyes digging into his back. It wasn't like he could blame anyone for staring; his company (which he kept in admittedly poor taste) was making quite the scene.

"Why-" _Kick!_"Don't you-" _Smack!_"Give it up already!" Sam hissed at the snack machine in front of her, hitting various buttons and slamming her hand against the side.

Freddie sighed, shooting a fleeting look to whoever ruled the skies before returning his attention to the blonde. "Why don't you try inserting money?" he asked flatly as she attempted to side tackle the machine, succeeding only in drawing more odd looks.

"Shut it, Benson," she snapped, eyes completely focused on the task at hand. "Mama's got this."

Freddie turned his attention back to the sky, wondering for the millionth time why in the world he got himself into situations like this. He knew that 'getting a snack' with Sam was anything but simple and yet he allowed himself into being coaxed into a break just fifteen minutes into studying. Sam had then proceeded to drag him all over the school claiming that the snacks looked too old in one vending machine and too fresh in another – which, she insisted, had a severe impact on the taste. Finally Sam had located a vending machine that had 'the perfect fatcakes' and had gotten to work fetching her food. Even though Freddie had offered various times to pay she was adamant that fighting the machine to get her food was a spiritual event: 'I'm connecting with my ancient tribal ancestors' she had said with a sniff, even though he tried to point out the closest thing to 'tribal' her ancestors ever got was a throw down at the local bar.

Freddie's attention was turned back to Sam when the machine let out a weak groan before succumbing to Sam's attack and dropping a few sugar-packed snacks into the drop box. Sam wasted no time snatching the food up and tearing the packages apart – plopping down in the middle of the hallway to have a little makeshift picnic.

"Sam-" Freddie started only to be cut off.

"Eating," she said curtly, tearing a piece off of one of the fatcakes in front of her and popping it in her mouth.

"Seriously, you can't-"

"Eating."

By now the hallway was starting to clear, everyone on their way home or going to whatever after school activity they were involved with. Freddie gave a paranoid glance down the hall, as if any moment his mother was going to pop up and scold him for slacking on his studies, before taking a seat beside Sam. A look of surprise passed her face for a moment before her usual smugness returned.

"I have a project I need to work on tonight," he told her, "I can't stay late just because you've wasted this time eating."

Sam swallowed. "Chill, Benson, even Einstein had to eat."

"Einstein was a genius; therefore he could waste time eating because he didn't need a tutor."

"So you're saying that because I need a tutor I'm not allowed to eat?"

"I'm saying that you've been eating all day long and taking time out of tutoring to eat, when you've clearly digested enough to sustain throughout the next few hours, is wasteful."

"I'm seriously considering a restraining order, Freddifer, I know that geeks like you are even more aware of my 100% sexy standing, but this is really getting ridiculous." Sam paused for a moment, as if realizing something. "Huh, I guess this is how Carly felt when you went all stalker on her…"

"It's not stalking, I'm observant."

"Of me?"

"Not _just_ you."

Sam smirked. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"More like whatever inflates your ego." He countered.

Sam scoffed. "Please, my ego is stroked more than enough."

Freddie couldn't help but tinge at the thought of exactly went on to help 'stroke her ego'. Sam caught his blush and cocked an eyebrow. "Dirty mind?"

He sputtered. "Hardly. I react like anyone would."

"See if you had said that to me I would have handed you a condom and gave you a slap on the back. Well, after I finished laughing at your obvious lie…"

"When I said 'anyone' I meant anyone normal," he pointed out with a scowl.

"Eh, I'm too awesome for normal."

"Of course you are."

They settled into a comfortable silence that left Freddie's mind spinning. Were they just flirting? He wasn't exactly an expert in the whole girls department but he was sure there was some subtle subtext in that. He glanced at the blonde, shoving food down so fast he was sure if any health-conscious person saw they'd have a heart attack. She was completely unrestrained. He could never go for a girl like that, someone just so completely free that it was impossible to tell their next move. How could anyone fall for a girl who thought long term meant more than forty eight hours.

Freddie shook his head; why was he even thinking about this? It was _Sam_ AKA the girl who had given him his first broken bone, was responsible for his first trip to the principal's office and at fault for his first 'B' (she had stolen his History report in retribution for him refusing to split a sundae with her). She also, however, gave him his first kiss. _Which means nothing in the long run_, he decided.

"Okay, let's get this chiz going." Sam stood, brushing the crumbs off herself and crossing her arms, already impatient from the second wait.

Nope, he could definitely never fall for a girl like Sam.

**/**

"Are you going to the dance?"

Freddie looked up from the work page he was 'grading', a stupid exercise on finding the figurative meaning of a completely idiotic poem.

"What?"

Sam twirled her pen in her fingers, blue eyes calculating as she thought how to proceed. She had to phrase this right or the dork's mind would overload and he'd explode, or whatever dorks did.

"The Valentine's dance," she said slowly, giving him more than enough time to process. "Are you going?"

"Are you trying to distract me from grading this? Because either way we're getting this done today-"

"And I'm the one who needs a tutor," she rolled her eyes. "I'm asking you a question, Fredslow. The dance. Yes? No?"

"I'm not a caveman," he pointed out flatly.

"Is this supposed to be you being evasive?" She cocked an eyebrow.

He sighed. "No."

"No…?"

"No, I'm not going to the dance."

Sam leaned in and set her head on the table, for the first time since they had started to study actually looking interested.

"Why not? Doesn't Crazy force you to go to all the school dances?" Sam couldn't help but grin as she remembered the first time she had seen the elder Benson on a night of a school dance. It was all pictures and hair gel with Crazy, Sam didn't know how Freddie resisted the urge to just sock her one.

"Not this one," he said curtly, obviously wanting to drop the subject.

"But the Valentine's dance is the biggest event of the whole year," Sam said in mock shock. "Like, only prom can compare."

He glared. "I'm not going, and why does it even matter to you? You never go to the dances."

"I heard Trina Flicker talking in class and she wants you to ask her to the Valentine's dance. Putting aside the fact she's a total whore, she's usually the type of girl who you'd go for." She ignored his question.

"Since when is Trina a whore?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Since when was she not a whore? Nobody with any amount of decency would eat a lollipop like she does. And don't dodge the question, Benson, why aren't you asking Trina?"

"I don't want to, it's that simple. And who are you to talk about dodging questions, you never answered mine!"

"Didn't I, though?"

"No, you didn't."

She shrugged. "Fair enough. Seriously though, when did you get your desperation in check? Usually you're all over dances."

"Why do you care? How do you even know any of this, anyhow? And you say I'm a stalker."

"Please, I'm your friend, Benson, it's only natural I notice these things." His retort fell mute; if he tried to object then she'd label him as a stalker and go into one of her rants about his so called 'obsession' with her. "So, what is it? The truth: why aren't you going to the dance?"

Freddie sighed and leaned back in his seat, putting a finger to his temple. "Valentine's Dances mean something, you can't just take anyone. I wouldn't feel right just going with some random girl who I barely know."

"Valentine's Day was created by money-grubbing card companies. You get that, right?"

"You wouldn't understand it since you're, well, you. I don't want to be one of those guys who are-"

"Completely spineless and mushy? Sorry to inform you but you already failed in that department."

He narrowed his eyes. "Frivolous with their relationships. I'm just not one of those guys who can be careless with a girl's feelings."

Sam was a quiet for a second, seemingly debating whether to throw in another jab or actually take the serious route for once. "Last year you went to the dance with Wendy 'as friends'; why not just take Carly or something?" She went with the latter.

"She has a date, and so does Wendy."

"What, you don't have any other friends?"

"None with female anatomy."

Sam leaned back in her chair and let out a deep sigh. "Fine then, I guess I'll let you take me."

"Take you where?"

"To the dance, try and keep up. So, what, you'll pick me up at seven?"

"Wait, wait. You and me, going to the dance? Together? You're not serious."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Because you're you."

"I assure you I'm serious. And don't pick me up in your mother's baby-generator; I refused to be seen in a minivan."

"Me and you, going to the dance. Together."

"Yes, stop backtracking."

"But why do you want to go to the dance?"

Sam shrugged. "I hear someone is going to spike the punch and that means that someone on the staff is likely to get drunk. Do you know what I can get out of a drunken Ms. Briggs?"

Freddie rolled his eyes. "That 'someone' who's going to spike the punch is you, isn't it?"

Sam clucked her tongue. "If it was, you couldn't prove it."

He pursed his lips, wrapping his mind around the idea. He _did_ want to go to the dance. As much as he hated to admit it, he was a sucker for those cheesy teenage-movie moments. Plus, if he did, he wouldn't have to go to the therapist his mother would surely send him to in order to talk about his 'social regression'.

"Me and you, as friends, right?"

Sam stared at him. "What else would we go as?"

"I'll pick you up at seven?" he dodged the question.

"Yeah," Sam smirked. "It's a date."

**/**

"Look, I already apologized, what else do you want?"

Freddie glared down at the score sheet in front of him, ignoring the blonde as she let out yet another sigh and began to tap her nails against the table.

"I wouldn't have done it if I thought you'd be this upset, it was just a spur of a moment thing." She continued, "I mean, we have done it before-"

Freddie broke his silence. "That was years ago, Sam, under completely different circumstances."

"It's not like this was much different," she huffed. "It was nothing; it was all completely blown out of proportion."

Freddie turned his attention back to the practice test, for once wishing she'd get all the answers wrong and flunk out. Blown out of proportion, she said, like anyone would react any differently put in his situation. She had kissed him. _She_had kissed _him_, right there in the middle of the Valentine's dance without any discretion or warning. One moment they were swaying to the Dinosaur Jr's "Said the People" and the next her lips were on his. Her lips were on his for two minutes. Two minutes in which he had somehow decided that he'd kiss her back without thinking. Two minutes in which there was definitely a tongue brush and the feeling of her smiling against his lips. Two minutes in which he had felt things he really, really didn't want to feel only to find that the third minute would reveal a very jealous Mike, Sam's latest ex, and Sam's true intention.

Of course, as soon as he realized what was going on he had stormed out without another word to her and spent the weekend moping in his room while his mother played Dr. Phil's "Depression: fighting the hurt" self-help tapes outside his door. Then Monday had rolled around and he had somehow found himself at the library where Sam was waiting for him, anxious to bombard him with 'apologies'. (Though, in reality, he had yet to hear her say 'sorry'.)

"You used me," he finally responded, sliding her back the practice test. She had gotten every answer right.

Sam frowned. "It wasn't like that-"

"So, what, you wanted to kiss me?"

"Stop putting words in-"

"It has to be one of the two, Sam, so which one is it?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking, can't we just chalk it up to that and forget it?"

Freddie stared at her, searching her blue eyes for the hidden meaning. He knew if he pushed he could get an answer from her, but did he really want to hear it?

He sighed, grabbing his bag. "Yeah, we can forget it." He really was a coward.

Relief swept over her features followed by confusion. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Home. We're done for the day."

**/**

**Twenty one reviews for one chapter is crazy so thank you so, so much for that. Every review was read and appreciated and I'll probably get around to responding to them soon…ish.**

**Um, what to say about this chapter? I lost a big chunk of this and had to re-write it, I had it near four thousand words on the first draft and it was cut to around three thousand so…yeah. In neither version was the dance shown, because I would have totally killed that scene if I had written it. I don't know whether or not this is going to be three chapters or five, but I'm definitely not letting it span further than that.**

**As always, Feedback=Love**


	3. Mistakes and Regret

**Mistakes and Regret**

Sam wasn't at their usual table, which in Freddie's current mood meant he had good reason to just walk away now and call their whole deal null and void. After a day of stewing he decided that he didn't care if Sam had wanted to kiss him or not. She was assaulting and abrasive and he definitely didn't want to kiss her. And even if he did want to kiss her, he didn't want to date her. He _couldn't_ date her for a matter of fact, it'd be impossible. If they went to the movies she'd probably throw popcorn at the other moviegoers, and his mother would probably have a heart attack or admit him to a mental institution.

Nope, it wouldn't work and he didn't want it to. That said, he was still her friend- barley, at the moment- and he guessed as so he was obligated to try to keep her from flunking out. That didn't mean he was going to wait forever though. With a sigh he scanned the library, hoping he had just missed her at first glance. No such luck, she wasn't there. He groaned, slumping down at the table and laying his forehead on the desk. He had better things to do then this. He could be completing his extra credit project for environmental science or hanging out with Carly or even getting his mother's monthly tick back out of the way.

He couldn't wait until they were done with the whole arrangement. Sam's math scores had already approved and he was almost sure her issue with interpretation came from her stubbornness to look deeper into the literary pieces he was giving her rather than an actual inability to see symbolism in things. That meant all they had to cover were electives and then he could get back to his usual schedule of studying and plotting out his future.

It was more excited then it sounded.

"'Sup nub." Sam slammed herself into the table, elbows propping up on the top as she caught her head in her hand and stared at him expectantly.

"You're twenty minutes late!" He told her, sitting up and shuffling his papers around in an attempt to look busy.

"I had stuff to take care of," she shrugged away his anger. "So what's the schedule today, teach?"

"Health," he decided not to probe at what 'stuff' meant. The less time they spent arguing the more time he'd get to spend away from the blonde. "I don't see how anyone could be failing it but…"

"I already flunked it once back in freshman year," she picked at her nails, "Mama's a Puckett, we don't get diseases."

He gave her a flat look. "Didn't your cousin have to cut off his foot because of some fungus?" He remembered her hunting him down in the hallways last year to show him the pictures. He had spent the rest of the day in the nurse's office.

"He was a Puckett by marriage, it doesn't count."

"You know Health isn't all about disease. It's about obtaining a general knowledge of the human body and common sicknesses."

"I don't get sick and how stupid would I have to be not to know my own body." She pointed at her face. "Ears, mouth, nose, eyes…I can go on."

"You do too. Remember when you ate those chocolates? Or when you got the flu and couldn't get out of bed?" There were like a million other times too. It was only to be expected from a girl who would eat food out of a public trashcan if she deemed it fresh enough.

"I was _poisoned_ and that was all your fault anyhow!"

Freddie leaned forward, work momentary forgotten. "How was that my fault?"

"How was it not?"

"That's not an answer!"

"Will neither was that!"

"Ugh!" Freddie shoved the practice test forward, catching the slight curve of her lip as she watched him simmer in frustration. "Just do the practice test, and no talking." To his surprise she withheld another snippy comment and instead simply reached across the table to steal his pen before turning her gaze down to her paper.

He was caught off guard by the compliance and cleared his throat before shifting in his seat. If he didn't know her better he would say she was trying to make up for the other day. She couldn't be though. Sam Puckett did not apologize, and if the day came when her body was stolen and she did apologize, he was sure it'd come in the form of a cold and detached sorry rather than a pleasant disposition. Still, she was acting strange. She had actually shown up for class the last few days, for one, and she had been oddly quiet. At first he had chalked her silence up to stubbornness to actually apologize to him but now he was thinking she might have actually developed the ability to reflect on her actions. He wasn't sure if he should be happy by this development or holding his hands over his head as preparation for the apparent apocalypse.

Sam was playing with his pen. Clicking it in and out and twirling it in her hands as her eyebrows scrunched up every so often. He might have been going too hard on her. As one of the few people who knew her best he knew that she had feelings, as much as she liked to pretend that she didn't. He also knew that her biggest problem in life was dealing with those feelings- general feelings, mind you, not even ones relating to him. He couldn't expect her to just break down and explain herself to him when more than likely she probably didn't even know what there was to explain.

"Benson?" Sam flicked her eyes up to him.

"Yeah?"

"If you don't stop staring at me I'm going to stab you with this pen."

Then again, he might have been looking too deep into it.

/

"I cannot believe you ate all the batter!"

"You let it out unattended," Sam dipped her fingers in to what was left of the brownie batter, lifting a chocolate covered finger to her mouth with a smile. "This is some good stuff though, mama approves. Nice work Benson."

"No, not nice work! This is the third time this week that you've ruined my home ec lesson. How do you expect to learn if you keep eating the material?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "It's a stupid class. Why do I need to learn how to cook if I can just eat at Carls? I think its sexism…wifeskills or some chiz like that."

"How can it be sexism if there are guys in the class? And you're not always going to be able to eat at Carly's."

"Why wouldn't I?" She asked, hopping onto the counter and handing him a spoon.

"Because eventually we're going to graduate and go to college."

"Then I'll get carry-out."

"You can't always get carry-out," he took the spoon, looking down at the bowl warily. He wasn't sure how sanitary it was to eat anything that Sam had put her fingers in but on the other hand he had, had her tongue in his mouth which he was sure was worse.

"Why not?" She grinned victoriously as he skimmed a bit of batter from the bowl.

"Because it's unhealthy and would be ridiculous expensive."

"You're trying to make a point here, right?"

"You wouldn't be able to afford it and/or would die do to chronic health diseases."

"I don't think so, I'm gonna marry rich when I'm older."

"I thought you said you were never going to marry."

"Details, Benson, details."

Freddie looked around the classroom- the classroom he was sure Principal Franklin was not going to give him the keys to for a fourth time. With Carly's kitchen still under construction and his mother steadfast intent to ignore Sam's existence for the rest of her life the classroom was the only place to host their home ec lessons. Unfortunately Sam's malevolent ways were at their best in Ridgeway and she always found a way to consume their lesson before it started. In truth, he wasn't all that bothered by it but he knew he had to buckle down if Sam planned on graduating.

"Since you ate the lesson again I think we should go over the usual kitchen utensils. Seventy five percent of the home ec final is written and so if you do okay on that and okay on the cooking test you'll have a chance of passing."

"I already got the written test figured out. I'm going to write the answers on my arm- Daniels is blind as a bat so if she says anything I'll just tell her my pen exploded on me or something."

"Of course, you would take the easy way out." Sam set the bowl down beside her and waved her hand in front of her dismissively.

"People say that like it's a bad thing. 'Of course you wouldn't put yourself through unnecessary effort.' Sometime in your life someone told you, you would have to work hard to get where you wanted to be so you think that's how it has to happen. No one ever told me that, so I _know_ it doesn't have to be that way."

"Says the girl that makes everything difficult."

"For other people."

Freddie pointed his spoon at her. "So you have no problem with anything you do as long as it doesn't affect you."

Sam stared at him, eyes narrowing like she was trying to see what he was really getting at before she let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not heartless. Like, with Gibby I don't care because let's face it he's not even really a person-"

"You know this is why his therapist requested you guys don't share any classes anymore."

"-_but_ with Carls and others I don't try to make them miserable." Sam looked down at her shoes, a scuffed pair of chucks that were riddled with Sam-doodles. "Things just happen."

Freddie had a feeling that the 'things' she might have been referencing was _the _thing. The oh-god-this-blonde-demon-is-kind-of-not-horrible mind fuck that had been twisting his stomach and ripping apart his brain since it happened but he couldn't be sure so he chose his next words carefully. "Do you regret these things?" Sure, he had numerous examples that showed she was capable of remorse but sometimes he just wasn't sure.

"I don't know. Regret is, like, when you wish something wouldn't happen, yeah? And sometimes I don't want things to not happen I just want them to happen differently."

"Then why don't you make them different?" It seemed simple to him.

"I don't know! Geez, Fredifeeler, do I look like you? I don't sit there and think about what I do beforehand, and I don't like drown in my emotions afterwards. How can I live in the moment if I'm dreading the past? That's what you do and look how you turned out."

"But you don't like an outcome of certain things, right? So why wouldn't you do that for those things?"

"Because that would make things worse and it would just be a long line or mistakes and regret."

"Mistake and regret," he repeated, letting the words sink in. That's what they were, weren't they?

"This conversation is stupid, are we learning about utensils are what?" Sam eyes were on the ceiling and he knew she was just trying to block him out. One of her many ways.

"Yeah, fine, whatever." Freddie inhaled and pushed his thoughts away. "This is a strainer, you use it to…"

/

"I'm hurt and disappointed and upset and…" Carly paused, finally turning around to face Freddie. "Totally excited! I knew Sam liked you and I knew you liked her back! Are you dating now? Sam has been actively avoiding me but I expected that because you know how she is about feelings and more so about you, she'll come along in her own time, but you! Why didn't you tell me? I've just been waiting for you to come to me like Spencer said- and, in hindsight, taking advice from Spencer probably wasn't a good idea- but I cannot wait another moment. You have to tell me everything."

Freddie stared at the brunette, for a moment almost drawn in by her excitement before groaning and throwing himself on the Shay's couch without a care. He was already emotionally tapped out, he really didn't need this.

"Urghhh? What does that mean? What happened?" Carly poked him in his shoulder before taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table and crossing her arms over her chest. "Freddie you owe me an explanation. You guys did this behind my back, again, after swearing you wouldn't." He knew she was going to use that against him.

"It wasn't like that, it was nothing." Or something that had settled in to nothing. He wasn't really sure if that mattered. When Carly continued to stare at him he elaborated, "Sam kissed me to make her boyfriend of the week jealous. She doesn't have those kinds of feelings for me." And Freddie had decided that he didn't (couldn't, wouldn't-whatever) have feelings for her either.

"Are you blind? Of course she does. Why do you think she always flaunts her boyfriends in front of you? Or how you're tutoring her? She doesn't even need it!"

"No, she does, she showed me her test scores. She probably didn't come to you because in her mind I'm like Gibby, I don't really exist."

"Sam really does treat Gibby horribly, I hope those pills he's on now are helping," Carly paused, as if realizing that wasn't the point. "But I'm seriously; Sam really doesn't need your help. Just a few weeks ago she was bouncing around because she found out she was a sure shot to graduate. Principal Franklin said on the very slim chance she didn't pass finals she could re-take them and if that didn't work out there were various options she could take. But, I mean, she took the pre-test for her finals the other day and aced them all. I'm not saying she didn't cheat, but she passed."

"Wait, so you're saying Sam really doesn't need my help?" He sat up, still not fully grasping the situation. "But what about the test scores she gave me?"

Carly shrugged. "I don't know, but you know Sam only does a part of those test before filling in random bubbles. The places she scored low in were probably just because she wasn't trying." Carly smiled softly. "She's not like other girls; she can't just come right out and say that she likes you."

"But she said it was a mistake that she would regret."

"We're talking about a girl that ate a whole bucket of chicken out of the dumpster once, she lives for regrets!" Carly stood, suddenly energized. "And it's not like you're going to be one anyhow. Now, we need a plan…"

/

**Oh. ****Woopsy daisy. Looks like I forgot to update this for a year. No hard feelings though, kay? Also, this post comes brought to you by the lovely members of the Cabal who are taking part in a group posting this weekend. Seriously, this might have been furthered delayed if I hadn't had a deadline nipping at my heels. Credit also goes to The Earl of Sandwich whose sheer awesomeness helped move this along. Next chapter should hopefully come along soon. **

**~The CABAL~**

**aussiemma, axel100, BaalRules, BoxOfTrinkets, boxofpiglets, Champagne Scene, Coyote Laughs, Deviocity, Hartful13, hidden-in-the-pictures, ItalianBabexo8, iCabal, iCarlyangst, iLuvNathanKrEsS, JamesTheGreater, KingxLeon21, Myjumpingsocks, ober22, pairababes, pearlbutton328, Pieequals36, pigwiz, Tech-Man, The Earl of Sandwich, twowritehands, Virgoleo23, Waffles Of Doom, xXACCEBXx**


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